


Broken, Battered, Bruised

by kirasha



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Multi, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Work In Progress, not fully compliant to Captain America: the Winter Soldier, not fully compliant to Iron Man 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-15 12:44:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1305319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirasha/pseuds/kirasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James "Bucky" Barnes, the Winter Soldier, has been returned to his own mind. At least, he hopes so. But, while Bucky's trying to pick up the pieces of his lives, he's also worrying about Steve, who doesn't seem to have quite gotten his footing in the future. Then there's Natasha and Bucky has no idea what to do about a former lover he might have cared for when he didn't know who he was or what mattered to him most. Hovering about the fringes is Tony Stark, who seems to have just blithely taken over planning everyone's life and they all seem to be letting him. And all of this while they try to unravel the Hydra plot that brought the Winter Soldier in from the cold in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers abound for all Marvel Cinematic Universe films, as well as Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Agent Carter. However, this story is heavily AU after Iron Man 3 and ignores the end of that movie entirely, while drawing heavily from Ed Brubaker's run with the Captain America and Winter Soldier comic titles. Characters and events are influenced by both films and comics, but this is not a canon-compliant tale as I've taken liberties with the details. I have tried to keep the spirit of the characters and their stories intact.
> 
> The ships given in this header may change. I started writing with one ship in mind, then pieces of other things started being revealed in later chapters. Now, I'm not sure where these boys are going to end up. But, it will be in some configuration of the three. LOL

The last thing he remembered was cold, icy air and water so cold it seared skin and stole his breath before he even went under. Gasping as he struggled back to consciousness, he fought to remember where he was, how he'd gotten out of the water. He thought he could hear someone calling him, calling to him?

_Come on_.

He knew that voice.

_Remember, dammit_!

He was trying, dammit!

_Remember who you are_!

Who he was? He knew who he was. He was...

_Dammit, Bucky_!

_James, remember_!

Blue eyes flew open, unseeing as he stared at the faces around him and it all came back in a rush: the pain, the fear, the blood and death. It all came back at once, every memory, every life taken. And when he looked down, hiding in shame from the worried face so close to his, he saw his arm. Oh God! What had he become?

He couldn't do this. He couldn't stay here, couldn't face-

Before his struggles could really begin in earnest, something jabbed him in the neck and he slid into merciful darkness.

~ * ~

"My, isn't this a stunningly uncomfortable way to wake-up. Oh, no, never mind. He's not awake yet. Granola?" Tony Stark smirked the unrepentant smirk of a man used to being right, even when he was an ass about it. And he was right this time, too. The four figures at the observation window would put the fear of God into almost anyone upon waking.

Tony himself being the exception, of course.

Not that he didn't understand why they all were there. It was big exciting news, of course it was. Not every day they captured the world's most efficient and terrifying assassin, found him to be the long-thought-dead best friend of Captain America himself -- and, incidentally, the former lover of the second most efficient and terrifying assassin in the world -- _and_ deprogrammed him back to his former heroic side-kick self before he passed out from shock and the really strong sedatives they kept him on for days to prevent further waking until the preeminent super-secret club of the world could decide what to do with the poor sap. So, Tony could totally understand why Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff were standing watch over his bedside just on the other side of the glass. And Clint Barton? Well, he had a habit of showing up like the overprotective big brother whenever Romanoff needed the emotional support she'd never ask for from anyone.

Tony figured Nick Fury just hung around because he liked to intimidate the weaker willed, which was pretty much most of the agents in the Director's agency.

"You four don't look like the firing squad that awaits at all. Really." Leaning with his back to the wall next to Rogers, he just stared at the super soldier.

"What are you doing here, Tony?" Man, Rogers' sigh following his name sounded almost identical to the one Rhodey had, the one he pulled out just before he explained his entirely erroneous belief Tony was about to do something ill-advised, rash, dangerous, or all of the above. Why must he always explain his brilliance to the people closest to him?

But, this time, Fury beat Tony to the punch. "Because I called him."

"Seems even the glorious font of all secret knowledge that is S.H.I.E.L.D. needs a true expert in the field."

"What field?" Rogers finally turned to look at him and Tony nearly sighed himself once he got a glimpse of the raw emotion behind the usual stoic acceptance.

"Your buddy's arm. S.H.I.E.L.D. wants to know all about it. Make sure it's not dangerous and subversive...all those things they would _never_ think of being themselves...before he wakes up and starts killing everyone again." Tony bet they wanted to see if they could weaponize it, turn the Winter Soldier into _their_ assassin the way they had pulled in Romanoff. After all, they'd tried to weaponize the tesseract, too, which had turned out just spectacularly for all involved.

Really.

"Stark!"

"Sorry! I thought we'd stopped keeping secrets like that from Cap after the whole Phase Two debacle. Bad for morale and all that?" Tony popped another handful of granola into his mouth.

"Director?" Rogers turned accusing eyes on Fury.

"It's just a precaution, Captain. Until we're sure what was done to him is completely reversed, we need to take precautions for his safety as well as everyone else's."

"And how are you going to be sure if you never let him out of sedation?" Tony asked, flashing a tight smile in response to Fury's glare.

"That's why you're here, Stark."

"Oh! Right. Well, I guess I'd better get in there, then." Pushing off the wall with a shoulder, he turned to hand Rogers his packet of granola. "No food allowed. Sterile environment and all."

"Tony..."

"Relax, Captain, my Captain. It's just a little peek under the hood. Promise." Tony squeezed Rogers' shoulder briefly before opening the door and slipping quietly into the room.

Of course, a peek under the hood for Tony Stark meant a full diagnostic scan with the assistance of JARVIS through the commlink in his ear. Really, every genius should have an AI like JARVIS...not that Tony would ever share that particular creation. JARVIS was his.

James 'Bucky' Barnes had lost his left arm in the fall from a train that had been believed to take his life. The notes S.H.I.E.L.D. possessed didn't explain why, -- if there had been a medical necessity or it was simply expedient and intended as one more way of torturing the young man into the mold the Russians had created for him -- but the arm they'd given him intrigued Tony, mostly because so much potential appeared wasted by whatever incompetent idiot had built it.

Tony ran a hand held scanner back and forth over the arm while JARVIS analyzed various readings.

"External readings indicate no danger, Sir."

"No hidden panels, triggers, or foreign substances?"

"None, sir. All mechanisms appear to be internal and strictly for normal biological functions. No weapons. No hidden tools. I'm scanning now, but it appears the sole purpose is to replace functionality of the arm that was lost, if somewhat stronger than normal."

"Thank you JARVIS." Where was the fun in that? Tony almost pouted as he stared at the arm in front of him and the man attached to it. Patting the painted star on Barnes' shoulder, he said sadly, "Looks like you got jipped, kid."

"Sir, the neural-" A jerk from the metal arm beneath his hand filled in the rest of what JARVIS started to warn Tony about.

As Barnes began thrashing against the bed, pulling at the restraints holding him down -- and, really, why had they bothered to restrain him when that arm should have been able to rip free on the first try? -- Rogers and Romanoff came rushing into the room.

"Bucky? Buck..." Rogers was on the other side of the bed trying to grab onto Barnes' shoulders, rather unsuccessfully due to the violence with which Barnes tried to break free. And why didn't he use the strength in that arm? They'd seen it in combat. They knew what he could do with it. So, why hadn't he broken the restraint by now?

Oh. That was why.

Romanoff stood silently next to Tony, but once Barnes got a good look at her, he seemed to panic even more. One forceful tug on the restraint -- and, really, it was only a standard issue hospital restraint. What was S.H.I.E.L.D. thinking? -- and Romanoff took a metal backhand across the face that sent her flying across the room. Not something Tony saw every day, that, anyone getting a drop on Black Widow.

Barnes' eyes were wide open and staring, yet he didn't seem to be seeing anything around him. Rogers was still trying to calm his best friend and Tony knew better than to offer Natasha help up for which she hadn't first asked. He did turn around to see if she was alright, however, and saw Barton standing in the doorway, bow drawn.

"Not helping, Robin of Locksley. Stand down." Tony shooed at him, then rolled his eyes when the man just stood there. Damned overprotective...Romanoff really needed to just fuck Barton and see if that got the guy to relax.

"Barnes, James; Sergeant; 32557..." Tony's attention went back to the man in obvious distress on the bed, words falling from his lips like a twisted litany, and that was when it all clicked.

A S.H.I.E.L.D. doctor rushed in, syringe at the ready and Tony grabbed his wrist to prevent him getting any closer to Barnes. "Don't."

Rogers looked up at Tony as he echoed the same order, surprise clear in his expression. Tony huffed. It wasn't that unusual for him to agree with an order.

"Everybody out but Rogers and myself. Now."

"Stark."

"Not joking. Out."

"What the fuck, Stark?"

"Out!" Rounding on the doctor, he pushed the man out of the room, right into Barton, forcing the archer to lower his weapon or risk turning the doctor to shishkabob. Romanoff followed after staring at Tony for no more than a second.

"Tony, what are you doing?"

"He's having a flashback, Rogers. Trapped in his own head." Reaching over Barnes' still struggling body, he undid the remaining restraint. Tony had a pretty good idea where Barnes thought he was and what he thought they were doing and S.H.I.E.L.D. was full of idiots if they couldn't see it. "Listen to him, Rogers...Steve, listen to what he's saying. Name, rank, serial number?"

The other man's eyes widened and Tony knew he got it. "That camp?"

"Exactly. He thinks he's back there. Talk to him. What did you say that day? You need to bring him out of it, back to the present."

Rogers hesitated for a moment, then he turned back, full focus on Barnes. "Bucky! Buck, come on. It's me, Steve."

"Steve?"

"Yeah, it's me. I thought you were dead." Tony didn't doubt those words of Rogers' were fresh, not a repeat of the past, no matter what they sounded like. The man _had_ thought Barnes dead until a week ago.

"Thought you were smaller." Barnes words were slurred, uncertain, but he stopped thrashing and Tony took that as a good sign, keeping back out of Barnes' view so as not to set him off further. "What happened?"

"Been over that part, Buck. I joined the army, remember?"

Barnes nodded. "It's permanent."

"Yeah." Rogers chuckled softly. "It's permanent. You with me, jerk?"

"Punk." There was a slight smirk accompanying the automatic comeback and Tony nearly laughed himself. No wonder he could get under Rogers' skin without barely trying. The man came preconditioned to respond to sarcasm thanks to his best friend. Barnes took a breath, his eyes focusing more as he did, coming out of it slowly. "Steve? What the hell is going on? Feels like someone scrambled my brain for breakfast. ...I remember...things that couldn't...things I've..."

Rogers looked at Tony, who just shrugged.

"Stay with him, Cap. I'm going to have a chat with the peanut gallery outside." Tony moved to close the curtain over the observation window, taking Barnes off display, then left the room.

"Stark, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Fury met him just outside the door, which Tony closed firmly behind him to give Rogers and Barnes some privacy.

"What someone should have done the minute they brought him in," he replied, surprising even himself. After a beat, he nodded. "Taking charge of Barnes."

"Have you lost what little sanity you possess? You saw what just happened in there. It's not the first time he's grown violent. It's only the first time any of you were here to witness it."

"Not surprised. S.H.I.E.L.D. hospitality generally goes light on the amenities." Tony shrugged. "He's been kept sedated for over a week, not allowed to actually process what's happened to him. Even your own shrinks would tell you that's dangerous to all involved. You're making matters worse in the name of security and you need to think outside the box on this one."

Fury raised his visible eyebrow. "Such as?"

"Avengers Tower is mostly repaired, no civilians except for Pepper above the office levels, access already granted to the entire team in case of emergency, a new training center in the residential floors, and Iron Man is in residence." Tony's face was the picture of confidence as he met Fury's stare down. He didn't follow orders without question the way the man's agents would, especially if he had a better way of doing something. "Let Sitwell or Hill come check on things as often as you feel necessary."

"Daily reports. If he so much as yells at a child and makes it cry, you can share a cell in the brig."

"I'll just have to make small children cry on my own." Tony glanced around. "Anyone see what Rogers did with my granola?"

~ * ~

Bucky woke up to the sound of Steve arguing with Howard Stark about who knew what. No, wait. That wasn't Howard. As he listened, keeping his eyes closed and his breathing even so as not to betray the fact he was awake, he could tell the voice he heard didn't belong to the inventor. It just sounded an awful lot like him.

"He's my best friend, Tony."

"Exactly why he shouldn't stay with you."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Right. Small words. Your friend needs help, help you can't give him while you're still trying to help yourself." The voice belonging to 'Tony' sighed. "Look, Rogers- Steve, you still need to get your own head on straight before you can help him straighten _his_ out. Have you taken _any_ time to process things? I know you tried, going off on that bike of yours to see what the world's become in seventy years. But, look how well that went. You basically came out of the ice and got thrown directly into another war. Then you sign up with S.H.I.E.L.D. of all things -- clearly a sign of trauma you haven't processed. That led to you and him getting into it, landing him here and you fretting like an old maid. Besides, Fury is putting his foot down and I actually agree with him on this one. Your place isn't secure enough and I can have JARVIS on duty twenty-four/seven."

"I just got him back, Tony. And how much processing have _you_ done since the invasion?"

"Steve. It's fine," Bucky drawled softly as he opened his eyes to find both of them standing at the side of the bed and staring at him.

"Bucky! You're awake. You know where you are?"

"Mm, seems I am and I haven't a damn clue. Guessing a hospital from the decor." Turning to lay on his back, Bucky glanced at the man who must be 'Tony' and cripes, if he didn't look like an older Howard Stark with the same square jaw, slight build, and saucy smirk. Only the eyes were different, warmer. Just perfect. "And wherever he's talking about taking me, it's gotta be better than the prison cell I deserve, right? So, let it go."

"Buck-"

"Oh, ye of little faith. Rogers, tell him all about the Nirvana he's about to experience. I need to call Pepper and make arrangements. Barnes, I'll send a car for you in the morning."

"Right. Thanks, Tony Without a Last Name." Bucky could guess the last name, but he had liked winding Stark Senior up. It'd be fun to see if this Junior version took the bait as easily.

"I think I'm hurt." The man damn near pouted and Bucky had to chuckle. "I haven't needed an introduction in so long I'm sure it's never happened."

"This is Tony Stark, Howard's son," Steve interjected, much to the apparent annoyance of Tony. Bucky, however, raised an eyebrow. Stark's son. Huh. It was possibly a sign of how much his brain still felt like Swiss cheese that the answer surprised him even if he'd guessed some relationship.

"Stark, hm? I'll look forward to Nirvana, then, Tony Stark."

After Stark left, Steve turned those big, blue puppy eyes of his on Bucky, who just shrugged. "What?"

"I know you and Howard never got on, but you don't even know Tony."

"Stark Sr. and I got on just fine, when he remembered that you were a person and not a toy or an experiment. Stark Jr. and I can do the same within the same parameters.""

"Howard knew I was a person, Buck. You just have a habit of being overprotective."

"Someone's got to watch out for you. God knows you never watch out for yourself."

Steve smiled. Just a small thing, but it was the most normal thing that had happened to Bucky in forever. "I watch out for myself just fine. It's you I-"

"Don't." Bucky sighed and sat up. Damn, had these people not restrained him at all? What were they thinking? "Don't you dare apologize, Steve Rogers. I can see it coming and I don't want to hear it."

"But-"

"No. Shit happens. You might be a super soldier, but that doesn't make you infallible. You tried."

"Not hard enough." Steve took his turn to sigh. Bucky reached up with his right hand and pulled on Steve's arm, silently telling him to sit. The bed was big enough for the two of them.

"You can't save everyone, Steve. Never was your job to save me. It was a war. We had a mission. It's as simple as that." If he believed the conviction in his own voice, Bucky didn't know. But, he'd always been a better liar than Steve and he knew the earnestness his wide-eyed expression would convey. Even if he looked doubtful, Steve would believe him because Steve had to believe. It was just the way Steve had been built, idealistic and hopeful. "We're getting a second chance, right?"

"Right."

"'Kay, then. No apologies." Bucky didn't think he could take it.

"No apologies," Steve agreed. "I still wish I could take you home to my place. Got me an apartment in Brooklyn, not too far from where we used to live."

"It's fine." He shook his head. "Better than I would have expected with all that I've done. It's...it's all coming back to me, Steve. The things I've done...I deserve a lot worse that whatever Stark's going to give me. If I wasn't Captain America's best friend, I'd probably be in a cell on rations and chained up for the rest of my life, however long that lasted. Besides, your friend Stark sounded worried about you. What was he talking about? What happened to you?"

"Told you. I joined the Army."

Bucky knew Steve was joking, or trying to. But, the old words from a long ago rescue had already served their purpose. What had helped bring Bucky out of his delirium the day before became just a stalling tactic now. Watching as Steve stood up and moved to the far wall, leaning back against it, arms folded over his chest in a defensive stance hardly anyone ever saw, Bucky wondered just how bad off his friend was. "Steve? Talk to me, buddy."

"After you...you know, Gabe took Zola into custody."

"Good for Gabe."

"Yeah. Colonel Phillips did the interrogation, although I understand he might have implied being indirectly responsible for the death of Captain America's best friend was a good way to find a lot of heads turned the other way should misfortune befall him."

"Bet you hated that."

"It'd be a sucker bet." Steve smiled again, just a little and for just a moment before his expression fell, grew sad. "Zola gave us Schmidt's location, but I couldn't stop him getting airborne. Once he disappeared, the only way to stop the plane from hitting New York was to put her down in the water. Hit an iceberg instead. Turns out the serum can keep a body alive for almost seventy years."

"Seventy years. Jesus, Steve." Bucky closed his eyes, not sure how to digest that little tidbit. They got the Skull, but Steve had lost...everyone. No wonder he clung so hard. "How long since? Stark said something about-"

"A year or so? Maybe two?" Steve shrugged. "When I woke up, I had a little time to catch up on history. Then there was an alien invasion, the Avengers formed, and when it was all over I hit the road. Thought I'd see the country a bit, explore the future. After that, S.H.I.E.L.D. gave me a job, so I took it, until…"

Bucky didn't need Steve to tell him the rest. He'd found out about Hydra's asset, about Bucky, and set out on another rescue mission. It was Azzano all over again. Only this time... "Stark was right, Steve. You need to get yourself settled. For once in your life, you need to be selfish and put yourself first before you break."

"I'd be settled a lot easier with my best friend around."

"I'll be around. I get the impression I'm not going to be allowed out much until whoever it is running things-"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. It's what the S.S.R. became. Howard helped found it, while still searching for the wreckage of the plane. Howard, Peggy, and Philips. Dum Dum and the rest of the guys signed on, too."

Of course, Steve would never admit Stark had been looking for _him_ , even if Bucky found it hard to believe the man cared about Steve more than his toys.

"Right. Them. I doubt they're letting me out on my own much until they're satisfied I'm no longer a threat. No. Shut up. They're right." Bucky could see the argument in Steve's eyes before he opened his mouth. "You were frozen for seventy years. I spent a good chunk of that time out in the world _killing_ people. For Hydra. Their asset. What is it the agents whisper? The Winter Soldier? A goddamn horror legend and _I'm **him**_." Steve opened his mouth to say something and Bucky didn't want to hear it. "I said shut up. I'm an assassin, Steve, a good one, the best. And no matter what I was, what I am now, that's always going to be a part of me. It's what I have to learn to live with and what you have to learn to accept. I am a killer. And, until we know what's been left behind in my head, I _am_ a threat. To society, to the S.S.R. or S.H.I.E.L.D. or whatever they call themselves, to Natalia. To _you_."

"No! You're not a threat to me, Bucky. You couldn't be."

"You don't _know_ that, Steve. You can't know that."

"I know _you_."

"Then you know I'm going to have your back. I've always had your back. And right now, having your back means not living with you until I'm sure I won't hurt you. Let Stark put me up for a while. Come and visit as often as you feel the need. But, let me do this on my own while you do what you need to do to be a part of the world. I've been awake on and off this whole time. The technology isn't new to me. The pop culture isn't necessary. Hell, I _fought_ the damn Cold War. Go learn about the world while you can, before another crisis calls you back to duty. Please, Steve. I need to know I'm not a danger to you, that I don't have to worry about you, or I'll never be able to figure things out myself. Please."

Steve sighed. "There's an agent who'll visit daily as part of the security protocols. If he can visit daily, so can I."

"I still want to see you. I'm not trying to get rid of you, punk." Just protect him.

The assassin protecting the super soldier.

Right. That was going to work.


	2. Settling

The next morning saw Bucky standing at window of his new room, watching what had become of his city in seventy years. It felt weird. He had memories of some things. Like he'd told Steve, he knew what a cell phone was and a tablet, and how to use them almost as naturally as anyone native to this time. But, he still found himself thinking about things like when the morning paper would be delivered or how long the bread lines would be that day. It felt like he had two people living inside one brain and he pretty much hated the interloper...if he could just figure out which one of them that was, the Brooklyn soldier or the Russian assassin.

Steve had explained a few things about what S.H.I.E.L.D. had been able to learn regarding what happened to Bucky, how he had apparently been fished out of the river by the Russians, an amnesiac with perfect muscle memory who could pass as an American. How Hydra had been involved, they were still working on figuring out. They figured that, at some point, his memories had started to return and break through the conditioning, which led to putting him in cryogenic suspension and memory wipes between missions. The records were…incomplete. And there were holes in his own memories Bucky wasn't sure he wanted to fill.

But Bucky didn't remember that part, yet. He remembered...a lot of horrors he'd been responsible for over the years and he remembered his life before the fall. But, how the asset was created? The huge blank spots between missions when he'd apparently been on ice, just waiting to be sent off to more killing? Nothing. He remembered catching his arm on the side of that damn train before falling to the ice below, Cap's shield ripped off Bucky's arm, the sickening series of cracks as his left arm took the brunt of the fall, twisted oddly beneath him, and snapped in several places just before the echoing crack of ice breaking from the force of impact and the shock of water so cold it seemed to burn before he hit his head and passed out.

But, he didn't remember getting the new arm. It just appeared in his memories, sleek and metallic, branded with the red star, and capable of crushing a man's windpipe with an ease that frightened Bucky now.

And then there were some things he knew couldn't be real, but he remembered them anyway, things he knew to be drug-fogged memories of hallucinations designed to break the mind and spirit. Demons and shadows and voices ripping apart the fabric of his mind until there was nothing left but muscle memory and obedience...

A knock at the door broke through his thoughts and Bucky was grateful for the interruption.

"It's open."

"Good Morning, Sergeant." The gorgeous redhead who entered, prim and proper in a white suit that had to cost more than all of Bucky's army pay combined, could only be Stark's girlfriend, Bucky decided. Steve had explained who Pepper was the night before. Bucky also decided he liked her pretty much on sight, given the warm smile and mischievous gleam in her eye that said she wasn't up to anything now, but she could be at any time, despite the proper appearances. "I just wanted to make sure you were settling in well enough. You'll find some clothes in the closet. Not a lot, but I know how S.H.I.E.L.D. tends to forget about little things like that. Just let me or JARVIS know if anything doesn't fit."

"Thank you, Ma'am. I'm sure everything will be just fine." Bucky nodded his head politely, almost bowing at the shoulders. He had no idea who this 'Jarvis' was, but he figured he'd meet the man sooner or later.

"It's so nice having men with manners around. Maybe you could rub off on certain other brash individuals around here who seem to have forgotten them? But, please call me Pepper, Sergeant."

"My friends call me Bucky, _Ma'am_." Bucky smirked a little.

Pepper laughed softly. "Bucky it is then. Now, you're welcome to join us in the common areas of the penthouse as much as you feel comfortable. I've also given Tony explicit instructions to leave you to your privacy if you need it. Although, heaven knows, he probably won't listen."

Bucky couldn't imagine why Stark would bother him anymore than he could imagine why the man was moving him into his tower. "It's not necessary, but thank you."

"We'll see. You don't know Tony well, yet. Tell me in a week or two if it's not necessary," she told him, grinning. "I need to leave for a board meeting. So, I'll leave you be. But, I mean it. If there's anything you need, just let me know. We want you to feel comfortable here, Bucky."

"Thanks, I will." Not really, but he didn't need to tell her that asking for favors just wasn't in him.

"Good morning, Pepper."

"Morning, Steve."

As the two traded places in his doorway, Bucky had the uncharitable thought that he might possibly have gotten more relaxation back in that hospital. But, _that_ thought had him shivering inwardly and he quickly quelled it. He'd told Steve he wanted to see him and he'd meant it. Wasn't Steve's fault just looking at him made Bucky feel guilty for what he'd become, for leaving Steve on ice for a generation. "Hey, buddy."

"Hey, Buck. Pepper give you the anything you need, we want you to feel comfortable, by the way, this is JARVIS, welcome?" Steve asked with a grin.

"Got it in one." Bucky frowned.

"We have not been properly introduced, quite yet, Sergeant Barnes."

Bucky jumped a mile out of his boots at the unexpected third voice in the room. "The hell?"

Steve chuckled. "Good morning, JARVIS."

"Good morning, Captain Rogers."

"Where are you?" Bucky's eyes narrowed as he turned slowly, inspecting the room for hidden speakers and cameras. He'd thought he'd found and disabled them all when he first arrived.

"JARVIS is a computer program, Buck. He runs pretty much all of Tony's domestic systems, alarms, phones, all that."

"Why is he installed in my room?"

"I am installed in the entire tower, Sergeant. I would also ask that you please not disable any more of my systems. I have security and privacy protocols in place should you wish to remain unobserved."

"Uh...right. Sorry about that?" Okay, this was something new that he hadn't come across as the Soldier. Computers that carried on conversations and called you on your mistakes definitely had not been part of the Department's program. At least not that he remembered.

"JARVIS? I'd like to talk to Bucky privately for a bit, if that's alright?"

"Of course, Captain. Protocols will disengage when you leave this room, unless you request otherwise."

"Thanks."

"Yeah, thanks," Bucky echoed. Tilting his head, he looked at Steve with a mild frown. "If it's private, how does it...he?...know when you're asking him to do something?"

"No idea. Tony built and programmed him. I just about jumped out of my skin, same as you, when I first met him. Haven't gotten totally up to speed on the finer details of the future's technology, yet. I leave that stuff to the others."

"Yeah, I'll bet."

They stood there for a minute in silence, Bucky unsure what to say and Steve seeming to be the same. For want of anything else to do, Bucky sat down on the window seat behind him, one foot propped up on the bench so he could rest his flesh and blood forearm on his knee while he stared out the window again. He remembered a time when silences between the two of them were never awkward, let alone this...wrong.

Turning his head, Bucky tried his best to flash his friend the old charming grin that got them into more trouble as kids. "So, Cap, what are your plans for the day while I sit around waiting for court martial?"

"Stop it, Bucky." Steve sighed as Bucky turned his attention back to the sights outside his window. "It wasn't your fault. All anyone wants is to help you recover from what was done to you."

Bucky snorted. "Which part is that? The part where I became some pulp magazine nightmare? Or the part where they messed with my mind so I don't know if I'm coming or going anymore?" Sighing, he shook his head. "Sorry. It's just...I'm not even sure how you were able to get through to me other than the fact you never have known when to back the hell down from a fight."

"When you're ready to know, all you have to do is ask. Not like I was going to give up on the one fight that brought you back."

That actually made Bucky smile just a little. "What _are_ your plans for getting acquainted with the future?"

"I don't know. Maybe try spending time with the team, see what they can teach me? They're all pretty unique. Should be a good start...if any of them are around."

The team. Bucky remembered _their_ team. Dum Dum and Morita and Gabe. He remembered Dernier's shocked face just before he bled out years after the war ended. But, he couldn't tell Steve that.

"Think I'm going to take a nap," he said, standing back up. "Stupid drugs still making me feel sluggish."

"Yeah, of course." Steve frowned, but apparently thought better of whatever it was Bucky could see he wanted to say. "I'll see you later, then?"

"Count on it."

~  * ~

But twenty minutes after Steve closed the door behind him, Bucky lay on the bed staring up at the ceiling with no thought of sleeping since the drugs had burned out of his system before he ever left the medical facility.

The room was fairly large and spacious, more studio loft than actual room with high ceilings and subtle track lighting on some kind of daylight timer. Bucky had been there since just after dawn already and seen the lighting adjust with the increase in daylight. The outer wall was really just one long window with a low bench running along underneath it. The off white color to the walls and ceiling reflected the light from the windows until Bucky felt bathed in sunlight as bright as his thoughts were dark.

The bed was some weird material that was at once both firm and soft, the sheets surprisingly a soft cotton instead of the silk or satin one might expect from a hedonist the likes of Tony Stark. It was also raised up on a small platform in the middle of the room with clear lines of sight to the rest of the suite. No one was getting in without Bucky seeing them. It made him a little more visible as a target himself. But those were the risks sometimes and the bed frame was made of some dark metal alloy that Bucky could tell was bullet proof without really thinking about it. It was high enough he could use it for cover when the shooting started and went all the way to the floor. No way someone could hide under that, but Bucky had already found an almost secret compartment on either side that would do nicely for storing spare weaponry.

Inside the en suite bathroom there was possibly the largest shower Bucky had ever seen dominating the center of the space. There was no wall or privacy curtain that he could see, just clear glass to protect the rest of the space from steam and humidity. The bathroom's design was as open as the rest of the apartment, but it doubled as a jacuzzi with a scary amount of controls on the touchscreen interface along one side. Other than an island that doubled as a table in the small kitchenette, there was a small sofa and flatscreen television, the extent of the furniture in the place.

Bucky couldn't help wondering what kind of guests Stark had in mind when he designed the guest quarters. It was like some technological spy dream and he was sure he'd only discovered half of its secrets and hidey-holes.

Chastising himself for brooding, he pushed off the bed and went into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face, try to get hold of himself. He'd survived Hydra and Zola's experiments. He would damn well survive this, too.

At least, that was what he told his reflection in the mirror.

Still, the mirror was something Bucky couldn't look at now. As much as he couldn't look Steve in the face without feeling shame for his actions, he really couldn't look at his reflection without getting angry: at himself, at the Russians, at Hydra, at _Steve_.

It was that last one that hurt the most and made him feel even more guilty. Deep down, there was a part of him that felt hurt and betrayed Steve didn't go back for his body. He left a damn stage show to parachute behind enemy lines and single-handedly rescue not just Bucky but all the others Hydra had taken for their experiments. A goddamn hero in the Stars and Stripes. And he couldn't go back to retrieve his best friend's body?

Even as he thought it, Bucky hated himself for the thought.

He knew...he _knew_ if Steve could have come for him, he would have. Stupid punk never knew when to quit. But, the mission had to come first. Bucky would have boxed Steve's ears himself if he'd thrown over that mission, let Zola escape, just to rescue him. And by the time Steve could have come, the Russians had already beaten him to it. He couldn't -- _wouldn't_ \-- blame Steve.

Not really, not outside that small, stupid hurt in the back of his brain.

Only himself to blame, really. Bucky was the one who picked up that shield like he could protect Captain fucking America! Bucky was the one who charged in and got himself blown out the side of the train. Bucky was the one who couldn't hold on. Bucky was the one who couldn't fight against the brainwashing. Bucky's hand was the one that was holding the gun/knife/garrote/pencil/paper clip/whatever else he had to use to get the job done.

Bucky was the one standing in front of a mirror wondering if there was any humanity left in him after what he'd done, staring at the reflection of a metal arm that was now a constant reminder of how badly he'd fallen from grace. Hell probably had special levels just for people like him.

"Pull yourself together, Barnes." He muttered to himself as he turned the tap, splashed water on his face and ran wet fingers through tousled hair. He had to get out of this room before he drove himself crazy. Exploring the tower should have been the first thing he did, get the lay of the land, entrances and exits and security holes. He'd do it now, while everyone thought he was asleep. See what he could discover on his own, for once, without being spoon fed information someone else thought he could 'handle'.

Bucky had been taking care of himself since he was a kid; then himself and Steve; then himself, Steve, and their Commandos.

Then he'd been 'taking care of' a lot of people. But, he was trying not to think about that, trying not to remember the blood on his hands. So, he'd just go back to taking care of himself and everybody else could learn to deal with it.

"JARVIS?" he asked hesitantly, not sure what sort of reaction to expect.

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"Is there anywhere in this place a man can go to blow off some steam?"

~  * ~

And that was how Tony came to find his new guest in his personal gym when he finally decided to leave the lab and get in a little bit of a workout. He'd always stayed fit, mostly from vanity. Then, after becoming Iron Man, he'd actually needed to stay in shape. Now he'd hooked up with the Avengers and, except for Banner, he was surround by people a good decade younger than he was with twice the ability to kill a person with their bare hands while braiding each other's hair. He had to keep up and this was a healthier outlet than working twenty-four seven on improvements to the suit until he became obsessed again like he had right after the Chitauri attack.

As he leaned against the doorframe and watched Barnes doing what appeared to be Tai Chi forms on the mat, Tony couldn't help but sigh. Here he was, the ultimate _I'm a lover, not a fighter_ guy, surrounded by soldiers and assassins. Still, Tai Chi was a new one. Rogers was a brawler. With that shield of his and the way he just leapt into the fray, he could hardly be anything else no matter that he'd gone and learned all those fancy flips and jumps. Barton preferred to stay out of a melee as long as possible. But, when he did get into it, there was an acrobatic nature to his style. Romanoff...well, fuck, Romanoff was some sort of crazy combination of martial artist, acrobat, and dancer that was hands down the most lethal thing he'd ever seen.

At least, until he'd watched the footage from the final fight with the Winter Soldier. The file said the man had been a trainer for the Red Room. They knew from Romanoff he'd been her trainer before her lover and partner for a short time. But, seeing him in action proved just how paltry words could be at times. If there hadn't been something of Barnes still inside his head somewhere, something Rogers could reach, Tony wasn't sure even the combined force of Captain America and Black Widow could have brought the guy down, helping hand from random jogging partner or not. He moved with an efficient grace that was deadly and an economy of motion that most experts could only aspire to. Tony figured it was from the lack of feeling. Emotion fucked you up, slowed you down, made you create limits on your actions for the sake of being human.

The Winter Soldier had no such limitations.

"You making a habit out of watching from the background?" Barnes' words jolted Tony from his thoughts. Looking up Tony could see the other man watching him in the mirror, never stopping his movements. "Never would have pegged a Stark for anything but center stage."

"Is this the part where you tell me you knew my dad and we're so alike? Been there. Done that. Burned the t-shirt, Soldier Boy."

Barnes laughed. "I'll make a note. Does not like comparisons to old Howie." His metal arm seemed to float into the next form, the flesh one following, and Tony's eyes followed the motion almost absently. "Good."

"Good?"

"Good."

Scintillating conversationalist, this one.

Tony spent the next few minutes just watching in silence again. It was the bionic arm he was watching, the way it moved. Needed an upgrade, of course. He could already see the improvements in his head, schematics and blueprints overlaid his vision. There'd be several nights of experimentation in the lab until everything was perfect. Maybe weeks. But, it was fascinating how it moved with all of the same fluid grace of Barnes' flesh and bone arm, just another appendage. Even Tony didn't have that kind of movement while in the suit.

And that just rankled.

No way some Russian nutjobs built a better machine than Tony Stark.

"You watch my arm like old Howie used to watch Steve," Barnes remarked drily.

"I always suspected Dad had a hard on for the Captain."

Barnes snorted. "More like the serum and all the Hydra toys Steve brought back from raids."

"Boys will be boys."

Through it all, Barnes had continued to move seamlessly through each form. But, now he stopped and faced Tony, blue eyes boring into brown. Any other man faced with a taller, broader, stronger, and deadlier sniper and former assassin staring him down might make an excuse to leave. But Tony didn't generally back down from much of anything. After several moments, Tony cracked a smirk. "Have we settled who's the Alpha dog, yet? Or were you aiming to take our dicks out and swing them around next?"

"Wouldn't want to embarrass you," Barnes retorted, earning a laugh from Tony.

"And commenting on size versus use would just be too cliché, even for me. Out with it G.I. Joe. What's with the stare down?"

"Could ask you the same question. You've been standing here watching me for how long now?"

"I was trying to be polite."

"By staring."

"By not interrupting."

"Staring." Barnes smirked before strolling past Stark on his way to the elevator. He stopped for a moment when he got even with Tony. "It's not a toy, Stark. And I'm no one's lab rat anymore."


	3. Telling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did NOT mean for so long to pass in between chapters. Wow. Seriously, work's been pretty much kicking my butt this last year and loads of writing time I have not had. Pretty sure the Big Bang entries wouldn't have gotten done at all if I didn't have a wonderful writing partner.
> 
> Anyway, as I've taken so long to get this updated, I've gone back and tweaked a couple things in the earlier chapters in order to bring things into a little more canon compliance. This will still be wildly AU just because I wrote the set-up before CA:TWS was released and that turned out to be nothing like MCU canon. But, if you don't feel like going back to read it, you shouldn't need to in order for things to make sense.
> 
> Hopefully the next update won't take so long to get up!

"Go to hell!" Bucky spat, struggling against the men strapping him down to the table. It took four of them, one for each of his limbs, because Bucky wouldn't stop fighting them. It was probably stupid. Somehow he was probably channeling Steve. But, he knew if he went quietly, if he let them strap him down, that was it. He was dead. Maybe not right that minute, maybe not that day or that week, but if he let them strap him down, he was going to die.

Bucky wasn't ready to die.

Twisting violently, he managed to break his right arm and leg loose. A vicious swing of his fist connected with the jaw of the man holding his left arm at the same time a kick in the opposite direction caught the ribs of one of the men trying to recapture his freed limbs. People were shouting, but Bucky couldn't understand a damn word since it was all in German. He just assumed it was curses and orders to stop him. It's what he'd be shouting if he was the asshole in charge.

Through more punching and kicking, Bucky almost got his other foot free when four more big bruisers came in to help. Too many to fight and yet, he kept trying. Part of him thought _I get it now, Steve_ and it's the part of him that wouldn't stop trying to escape, the part that landed him there in the first place.

The fighter.

And then there were hands forcing him into the restraints, a stabbing pain in his leg, and the world turned inside out and upended itself.

From that moment on everything blurred and got tangled up in his head. His body betrayed him with every breath, giving him pleasure when bodies cracked and bleed, pain when soft lips caressed his fevered skin. Clawed hands sponge bathed him in blood while childrens' voices pleaded with him to stop fighting and give up. The whispers were worse, faceless voices in the shadows muttering fears and secrets.

_Not what we hoped for, but he'll do._

_I'm turning into you._

_Left behind. Forgotten you ever existed._

_Deserve this pain._

_Nothing more than a soulless killer._

"NOO!" He screamed in defiance, kept screaming, unwilling to succumb to the abyss the oblivion threatening to engulf his brain if he let it. Couldn't give in. Couldn't forget.

The awakening asset tugged at the straps holding him down. Snapping them easily, he came up swinging at the first laughing face he saw.

"Come on, Barnes." Captain America was standing to one side, laughing as well. "What did you expect? That you'd earned a second thought? Sure. It sucked we lost our sniper. But, the army is full of snipers who'd follow Captain America into Hell."

Pain of a different sort erupted in his chest, the kind no bullet wound could match for kill counts. Catching the super soldier by the throat, the Soldier threw him to the ground.

"Barnes, you idiot." Straddling his hips, the Soldier's flesh and blood fist collided with the Captain's face. He could hear the man still talking, but every time the words started to make sense, he hit him again until there was nothing but babbling and blood and-

" _Barnes!_ "

Bucky blinked and looked around, unsure in seemingly unfamiliar surroundings.

Something squirmed beneath him.

Focus and reality then came crashing together as he looked down to find himself sitting astride Stark's hips, the other man sprawled out on the bed with Bucky's hand -- the metal one -- holding him down by the throat just as he had been...

"Fuck!" He scrambled to let Stark up and get himself off the bed for good measure.

"We practically were," Stark drawled, his voice hoarse from the pressure that had been around his throat. Red prints from Bucky's fingers were already vivid against the pale skin. "Guess I know how Pepper felt, now."

"I really don't need to know about what you and your girlfriend get up to in bed, Stark."

"Not my girlfriend."

Bucky frowned. "But, I thought- Steve said..."

"Cap's been a little preoccupied with...other things. He missed the memo." The look Stark gave him was pointed and Bucky's guilt ratcheted up another notch. He was really messing up Steve's life with his new team, new friends.

"But, she still lives here?"

"Why wouldn't she?"

"You're a strange man, Stark."

"Look who's talking, Steve Austin."

"Sorry." Bucky didn't know what else to say. The adrenaline from the nightmare was leaving him tired and wired and there was a stranger in his room. A stranger who had invited Bucky to stay there and been rewarded with an attack. "Who?"

"Six Million Dollar Man? Astronaut with bionic implants. Oh, never mind. We'll have to educate you along with Rogers. But, not your fault." Stark was sitting up, now. "Comes with the lifestyle. Pretty sure Thor's the only one of us with a love life anymore."

"Thor?"

"Right. Haven't met him, have you? Welcome to the future. The old gods are real...sort of. Didn't Rogers fill you in?"

"We only had a few hours, Stark. Even you can't put seventy years of information between two people into that."

"Not yet."

Bucky snorted. "Of course. So. The lifestyle."

"Oh, sure. Everyone thinks it's all glamorous and awesome. I mean, superheroes! But then there's the fighting and the dying and the kidnapping and the torturing. It's not for everyone." Stark shrugged and Bucky saw something there that was very different from the flamboyant inventor his father had been; surprisingly, something almost kindred.

"Not for her, I take it?"

"Deserves better." Stark's eyes narrowed. "Tell me about the nightmare, Barnes."

"I'll tell you mine, if you tell me yours." Bucky might not have been as smart or talented as Steve, but he knew when he was being handled.

Stark waved a hand. Stopped. Then nodded. "Fine." Standing, Stark headed for the door. But, before Bucky could question him, he turned. "Drinks are on me. Come on."

~  * ~

"It's the same dream I've always had, really. Back at the Hydra base during the war, fighting not to get strapped down to the table Steve found me on. Failing." Seemed like a recurring theme for him: get turned into someone's lab rat no matter how much he fought. "The things that come after are...new." Wrong. Confused. All of the above.

It had taken them most of two bottles of whiskey to get Bucky to open up. Only half of one bottle had been Stark. Physically, Bucky didn't feel much different. But, once his brain relaxed and he started talking, it was like lancing a wound. Everything came spilling out...sort of.

Okay, not really. But, he did start to talk a little, which amounted to the same thing in his book.

Especially when it meant talking about his time in Austria as Hydra's prisoner, something he hadn't even talked to Steve about in detail at the time.

"Dum-Dum said they picked me because I was a fighter," he told Stark. Bucky had always scoffed and replied he was just prettier than Dum-Dum.

Truth was, he was never sure how Hydra was picking which prisoners were taken to the lab and which were worked to death. At least those working had a chance. Out of a hundred guys Bucky must have seen taken up to that lab, not a one ever came out. Not a one. Not until Bucky himself had been dragged out of Hell by his best friend.

"I was the only one to come out of that lab alive, thanks to Steve." And he still couldn't say he knew what had happened to him there. Time started to blend together after a while. Hard to distinguish one day spent trudging from cage to work and back to cage from every other day spent as such. But, Bucky's sure he couldn't have been in the lab more than a month and still been alive. But, time wasn't why he couldn't put events in order.

He knew it had started after the beating. 'The' beating, as if there hadn't been a couple dozen or more before that one. But, that one...

"There was this kid. Too small by half to be in the army at all, let alone on the front lines where he had to have been taken prisoner. Skinny and dirty as the rest of us with these wide blue eyes that never seemed to lose a scary amount of innocence." He'd reminded Bucky of Steve and he had wondered how the kid survived that long without being destroyed entirely by the war. "Exhaustion, malnutrition, it was no wonder the kid stumbled. Then the guards moved in with their sticks and those glares…" Bucky hadn't thought twice.

"You jumped in to fight the kid's fight for him just like you did with Steve as kids, right?" Stark had been strangely quiet, letting Bucky talk while he just listened from the other end of the couch. Howard never would have kept his mouth shut that long and, from what Bucky had been told, he was surprised the son could, too. But, Tony Stark hadn't bothered to put on the armor of witty sarcasm he'd worn every other time Bucky had spoken to him, allowing his few insightful comments during Bucky's story to mean something instead of just irritate as Bucky had been told to expect. "Steve told us some about you after we figured out you were the one knocking off S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Thought we needed to understand why he had to save you."

"Yeah, well, Steve isn't the only one who never liked bullies." Bucky tossed back the shot he'd been holding onto for the last few minutes, trying to ignore the reminder of Steve's unreasonable faith in him. "Didn't do any good, though. Just hauled us both off to that lab."

"Dad's journals indicated the going guess at the time was that Zola was trying to recreate the super soldier serum Erskine used on Steve."

"Figured as much."

"He didn't succeed, of course. But, it's probably what helped you survive long enough for the Russians to find you, has helped keep you from aging along with the cryogenic freezing." Stark grinned. "I don't imagine Star Wars was too popular in the Soviet Union, was it? Shame. There's a great Han Solo reference in here, but you wouldn't get it."

"I'll take your word for it."

"Good man. We'll have to make sure you watch it while you're here. I should just have Jarvis cue up a bunch of things for you to watch. Call Steve over, the two of you have a movie night or twelve. You know he's welcome to visit you, right?"

"He has already. This morning."

"Good. Good."

"Why are you doing this, Stark? Letting me stay here?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. felt it would compromise Captain America too much to have you stay there before they're sure there are no more triggers in your brain."

"They could have kept me sedated in that medical facility of theirs," Bucky pointed out. "You got me out."

Stark looked uncomfortable, caught out, and Bucky wondered if he really wanted to hear the answer.

"I tell you mine, right? That was the deal?"

It was Stark's turn to toss back his shot. But, he reached over to pour them each one more, thereby finishing off that second bottle. "S.H.I.E.L.D. has a tendency to forget they're dealing with people. It's all about the mission. And that's great. Someone's got to worry about the mission. But...you're a war hero, a former prisoner of war who was tortured and experimented on during the war, who never had a chance to deal with that because you never got an 'after the war', who has since been little more than a lab rat let out for testing, and they would have locked you up, perpetuated the mental torture you've endured for decades. All because it was safer for them. I don't like playing by their rules when people are involved. Having you stay with Steve...yeah, until we can be a little more sure the programming is completely broken, probably a bad idea. Of course, once I finish the remodel, I intend to get him and the rest of the team to move in here, too. So...oops?"

Bucky stared. There wasn't any other way to respond to that little speech. He knew he wasn't a war hero and he could tell there were things Stark wasn't telling him. But, what finally got to him was the overall sentiment that set him laughing freely. "Basically, I'm here because you wanted to stick it to S.H.I.E.L.D."

"No! Okay. Maybe." Stark shrugged casually and grinned.

"You're alright, Stark. Nothing like your dad at all."

"You say that like it's a good thing."

"Because it is. Sorry if you were expecting another Howard Stark sycophant, but I got over that within about five minutes of actually meeting him." Bucky shrugged. What he remembered of Howard Stark was mostly women, booze, and a way of looking at Steve like he was the Holy Fucking Grail of science. It didn't endear him to the man, even posthumously.

"Right. Well, then. Great. Nice talk. I should get back to the lab."

Bucky raised an eyebrow as he gulped down the last shot. Setting the glass down, he stood up. But, he didn't leave, instead staring down at Stark as if trying to figure out the pieces of a puzzle. "Why were you in my room?"

"What?" Stark looked confused for a moment before waving the question off. "Oh, right. That. Built these floors for a bunch of traumatized assassins and spies, Big Green. Got JARVIS keeping an eye on things to make sure no one puts any more holes in my tower. Even I can't afford to always be rebuilding my houses."

"Wouldn't want holes." Shaking his head, Bucky turned to walk away. But, he stopped before getting on the elevator and looked back for a moment. "You still have to tell me yours later, Stark."

He couldn't help laughing as he caught Stark's muttered exclamations about getting the last words just as the elevator doors closed on the penthouse.

**Author's Note:**

> Author Update 06/03/2016: I promise I have not forgotten or abandoned this story. The next chapters are in progress. I want to be a few ahead before I resume posting. Comments, as always, will be answered once I post the next chapter. I do apologize for the delay. Life had it's way with me for a while. But, I'm slowly getting some of my time back.


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